Oh, many folks think (and they think it quite loud), “Once I’m ON MY PATH, I’ll feel certain and proud! A burst of bright brilliance! A creative parade! No doubts, no confusion, no plans left unmade!” But here’s the small secret (now lean in, don’t roam): You’ve always been walking your path all along…

When I’m scared of the dark I whistle or sing,
Which fixates and pixates each scary thing.
The scaries are lonely, but not when I’m there.
They know that my music means that I care…

Oh, the “V” word is clever. It whispers, “Their fault.” And saves pain and bruises to hold in your vault. It catalogs injuries, polishes blame, Hands you a banner emblazoned with shame. It points out the villains, rehashing their crimes, And tells the same story, time after time.

Now let’s carry on, dear reader, stay near,
For Part Two holds truths some avoid out of fear. Because after the money, the wires, the pleas, Come silence… then questions… then nights without ease. You wait for a message. Refresh. Then retry. You tell yourself stories. You reason out why…

The lonely heart is a hungry old hunter,
It wanders at night and it wonders and wonders. For years we were married, then suddenly—poof! A spouse disappears—by divorce… or by death. You planned a whole lifetime with someone beside you, then life…

If your mind were a compass, a curious thing,
Would it spin toward old stories with a sorrowful ring? Would it point toward the past with a dramatic insist, Crying, “Look what they did!” with a clenched fist?

What is this thing called happy, my friend?
Does it start with a wish—or come near the end?
Is it chickens in pots? Or cars shining bright?
A Mercedes at dusk with the headlights just right?

Step right up to the Game of Your Life—
Not the mild sort, not the lukewarm-lite.
No, this is theBIG one,the bold neon swirl,
Where you spin the dial and design your whole world.
Guess who’s in charge of it all? Surprise! It’s YOU!
You’re the boss, the head honcho, the whole kangaroo…

So, how is your cash flowing, my dear friend?
Will your dollars last ’til your very end?
You’re not all alone in worry’s tight hold—
About life or bills, with money so bold!

When tempers are flaring and hearts start to burn,It’s time for the people of Earth to return.To reason and kindness, to listening hearts,To knowing that healing is how peace will start. In India’s villages, France’s proud streets.And Israel’s markets where sorrows repeat.To Pakistan’s valleys where heartache runs deep,Our neighbors need courage to wake from their […]